Interlude
by Maiden of the Moon
Summary: Whose woods are these I think I know. His house is in the village, though. He will not see me stopping here to watch his woods fill up with snow... [Mild InuKag, Kaede centric, NonAU, past based ficlet. Inspired by 'Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening']


Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.

Author's Note: Been travlin' down memory lane the past few days; Xmas tends to make me somewhat nostalgic. Anyway, in between all the old Pokemon and YuGiOh CDs I've been playing, I've been re-reading some of Rozefire-sama's old fanfiction. It put me in the mood to write some Yasha-love. X3

We'll see what this turns into. :D

(PS. Technically, this should be a ficlet. But I didn't really feel like putting it with _Seimei no Kakera_. I didn't think it fit with _SnK_; I see it as its own separate piece… if that makes any sense at all. Eh heh.)

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It had become something of a tradition—a habit, if you will—that she could not or would not break. Long after his awakening, his return, his rebirth. Long after his world began to spin again. Long after Kagome.

It didn't faze her. She hadn't expected time to remain froze. Her life had continued, too.

But each year, she liked to stop. Just for a moment. Each year, she liked to return.

Each year, she liked to remember…

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"_Whose woods are these I think I know;_

_His house is in the village, though_

_He will not see me stopping here_

_To watch his woods fill up with snow…"_

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**Interlude**

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The wood is quiet this time of year; peaceful, soft, and white. Twisting brambles, bare branches, the skeletons of summer vines— all covered in a thick layer of frost. Silent. The birds are sleeping, now, as are the animals… as are you.

I stare up at you; you, the forest's keeper; and wonder if you can feel the cold.

Probably not. Your lips aren't even blue. They're the same rosy-white that they were the day you died: parted and pink. Delicate. Your lashes have caught snowflakes; your hair glistens like ice. The red fabric of your haori swirls in a sudden breath of wind.

Icicles sing in the Goshinboku.

"Hello, Inu-Yasha…" I whisper softly, taking a hesitant step forward. The crunch of snow beneath my feet is louder than my voice. "It's… been a while."

10 years… Long enough for the pain to lessen; long enough for Kikyo's face to blur.

But I miss her still.

"I know you can't here me," I continue, nearing the stairway of roots. "But I thought someone ought to check up on you. You know, make sure you're not— well, dead isn't the right word." Nervously nibbling my bottom lip, I begin twisting the edges of the blanket I've wrapped around myself. "I suppose I just felt like I should come."

Inu-Yasha doesn't respond; the sky darkens. Night approaches.

"Winter came early this year, didn't it…?" Uncertain, I lower myself upon the roots, staring up at the hanyou's face. It looks much… softer than I remember it being. Gentler. And suddenly, I feel less afraid. "Do you remember? We barely had any snow last year. The farmers were worried about our water supply. But we made it through… and it looks like the forest is doing all right, as well."

Smiling slightly, I twist left, then right, drinking in the serenity of the wood. "It really is beautiful, isn't it? And it seems to blossom a little more each year. It's almost as if you're helping it grow. Or are you trying to make it beautiful for someone…?" In spite of myself, a giggle worms its way from my mouth; I muffle it with the corner of my blanket. "Kikyo-neesama used to do that. Whenever someone important came over, she'd gather flowers and clean and make everything shine."

Tilting my head, I grin up at the slumbering boy. "So who are you waiting for, Inu-Yasha?"

He doesn't reply. All around us, the world of white rapidly fades to gray… melting into black. Sunset. I have to return to the village.

Standing and stretching, I turn to face the hanyou one last time. His face is impassive, his ears tweaked, his nose pert— his hair dances in the breeze, as wild and unmanageable as his forest's foliage.

His world is cold…

Frowning, I shrug off my blanket and tuck it around him.

Then I head back to my village.

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"…_The woods are lovely, dark and deep_

_But I have promises to keep_

_And miles to go before I sleep_

_And miles to go before I sleep."  
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Excerpt From "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening"

Robert Frost

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